CorinTraven — Roleplayer Guild

Lady Sara

Staring into a mirror at her reflection, Sara’s hands came instinctively to her waist, pinching the poor thing in, an analyzing frown tight on her lips. The gown fit as it should, a milky ivory wrapped around her arms, though with the whole of her shoulder blades exposed. Atop the pearly white, petal-shaped pieces of turquoise were sewn overlapping, first bunched together, but just beneath her chest, they slowly began to wane, exposing the white most stunningly at the thin of her waist. And it was tight in the bodice, just as it should be, all the way down until the petals, this time slightly darker, bunched atop her hips in a tight band. Beneath it, loose fabric began, folded in irregular, but beautiful shapes, like mountain tops on a distant horizon. All the way to the floor, the aqua dripped from her, flowing and shimmering as light passed through the many slightly translucent layers. It was a gorgeous dress, her most gorgeous dress, the dulled aqua and ivory having an almost tragic beauty when paired together. Sara stared at this dress, her frown growing more deep set as she did. She loved the gown; it had been a gift from her father for her fifteenth birthday. A very expensive gift at that, and she’d known at first glance he had not just seen the thing through a shop window. No, this was the type of dress that had been commissioned, perhaps worth more than a month of a typical seamstresses wages. When she’d pulled it from the box, Sara could feel the fine fabric slipping through her fingers, and just as delicately as she had raised it, she had put it back, too afraid that she might ruin it simply by touch. It was not a day dress, not the type of dress she ever even unpacked, knowing that a field was no place for it. There had never been an occasion worth something so fine, and after a month, the gown was all but forgotten. Even the night prior to the feast, Sara had not remembered the dress. It wasn’t until her eyes opened for the morn, did she recall the gown and go tearing after it.

And now it was on, fitting as any good dress should, but still Sara did not feel at ease with it. Surely, a hundred other girls would be wearing dresses of similar elegance, and she had no reason to feel overdressed, yet she did. It felt false to wear something so nice, like she was hiding behind it, trying to appear like something she was not. Standing there, caught in her own gaze, Sara took a deep breath, her gloved hands gathering folds on either side of her gown, and lifted the end as her legs folded in a curtsy. All the while, her eyes remained transfixed on themselves, a smile crossing her lips, as well as an introduction, “Lady Sara Medved-…” The girl paused, to give time for her imaginary stranger to reply, before she continued on, her smile plastered on her face, “Enchanted.”

Her mock meeting was broken by a startling call, he might have knocked, if the door was anything besides thin canvas. 

“Sara?”

The girl nearly jumped out of her shoes to the voice of her father, soothing out the flare of her skirt, and stepping away from the mirror, face glowing red nonetheless. Nikolas Medved waited a few cautionary seconds, listening for any call of ‘Wait’, for he wanted to catch her in a compromising moment just as little as she. So the man waited, silent and politely, before slipping a gloved hand through the flap, and stepping in. 

Nikolas was not an all-and-all imposing man. He stood a basic 5’9”, with a close-cut head of graying brown hair, and a peppered beard to match. Though he rarely smiled, his face was not that of a bitter man, instead he’d look idly serious, brown eyes staring out, startled by his daughter’s gown as much as she’d been startled by his voice.

“Where did you get that?” He asked in disbelief, stepping closer to the girl, who looked away in quiet embarrassment.

“My birthday; you gave it to me.” She answered, peering up at him, and the almost scared look on his face only adding to her embarrassment, “Stop looking at me like that-..What’s wrong? It looks okay, doesn’t it?” 

Her voice sped with paranoia, but the man nodded slowly, uncharacteristically delayed as he looked her over one last time, “I bought you that? Bless the Monarch-…Wear a cloak, there must have been a mistake, never would I intentionally buy you a gown without shoulders.” 

Sara, who was already terrified, now looked at her father in absolute horror, her hand coming to brush her shoulder, “Will I need-…Is this too much?” She asked him, to which the man scoffed.

“I only jest- Don’t worry, compared to many of the other women, you’ll be nothing but modest. Still, wear a cloak.” Though his voice was stern, it was not so stern that Sara thought him completely serious. He seemed a dry man, but beyond the first crack of his flat voice, there sat a layer of humor many missed.

In response, Sara smiled at him, twisting around, and pulling a cloak from its pile, “Of course, Father. I shan’t take it off the whole night.”

The man closed his eyes, a breath of air exiting through his nose, “I have been in the halls before, Sara. You’ll remove your cloak the second you walk in; far too hot.” Though he did not agree entirely with the dress, and yearned  for any excuse to make the girl stay, Nikolas was a fair man. He had given the girl both the gown and his word, and neither would he deny her, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead, the man just sighed and shook his head, gesturing awkwardly out toward the door, “Are you nearly ready, Sara? I doubt you wish to be late. Your escort waits outside your door, once you are finished, he will take you to the feast, and bring you back, understood?”

Sara nodded, “Of course, Father. Thank you.” All the girl could do was grin at him, and as Nikolas turned away, her smile nearly made him turn back on his word, and force the girl to stay. She might hate him for it, but Nikolas was not ready for her to go, his poor sweet girl didn’t need to know the world she longed so desperately for. It wasn’t what she wanted, he knew that, but he also knew that she would have to discover that herself, no matter how much it might hurt her to realize. Children grow, even sweet and innocent ones, and so as Nikolas exited the tent, he looked toward the man placed in charge of his child. 

“Take care of her for me.”

“Yes Sir.” The man answered, and Nikolas heard his salute, but was too far away by then to return it. Instead, he returned to work, knowing that the only way to keep himself from worrying was to keep busy.

--

Sara and her escort arrived just as the crowd was at its thickest. A line of noble bodies were streaming into the castle without the least form of discipline or order. It was all very exciting to her, passing by a hundred new people in a matter of minutes. Her hands held onto her skirt, lifting it a couple inches off the ground, her flat, opal slippers stepping carefully across the stone, up the stairs, and eventually, through the door. As she climbed the steps, Sir Elvin kept close, dressed up in a soldiery uniform, one not meant for actual defense as it had no plate nor helmet, but for ceremony. His job seemed more to watch over her than to defend the girl, though should the time come, he still had a short sword swinging from his hip. But once she had passed through the doors, Sara looked back, and his face was gone, sunk to some railing perhaps, or down to the courtyard. At least, that’s what Sara hoped for the last thing she wanted was to be chastised for losing her guard. The girl didn’t concern herself too long about it, giving a quick glance around, before continuing into the feasting hall, the general flow leading her there easy enough.

Wandering through the open hall, she noted the stage- for the entertainment, and the raised table- for the entertained, the royal family. Both of these things would be where her attention would lay throughout the night, ever eager to take in what she could. So far, the girl felt unnoticed, which was a good feeling, for Sara feared that they would point her out like a spectacle, wonder ‘who’s that’ and perplex when they couldn’t put a name to her face. There were just so many nobles, from so many places, nobody noticed there was one very few knew the name of. It was relieving to her that she fit in among them, perhaps a bit more wonderstruck because this was all new, but otherwise, it wasn’t as if she was a moth amongst butterflies. 

Suddenly, a hush filled the hall, and Sara turned along with countless others to see the King and Queen enter. Her hands folded carefully in front of her, one twisting along the pearl bracelet she wore, the other hanging loose. Never in her life had Sara seen the King, and it was quite awing to her now, watching how his wife folded delicately into her chair, and how he spoke with such confidence. It seemed perfect to her; just as she had imagined it. The moment was quick, and soon the attention shifted from the King back to the man beside them, chatter beginning again. Sara turned away as politely as everyone else, though every so often, she glanced back at the royalty, weaving carefully so that she was close enough to see them, but not too close that she’d be noticed. 

Standing alone, Sara hadn’t the gall to introduce herself to anyone. Surely, there would be friends of her father she might know- perhaps even her Uncle was here, but so far, Sara hadn’t seen anybody of notability. Instead she stood alone, quietly regarding others, her hair braided loosely down her back, short pieces falling out, curling themselves up against her chin. While she adjusted one piece, the elder Prince entered, and Sara was as stunned as any girl. It just wasn’t fair, he was handsome, he was powerful, he was a Prince for the Monarch’s sake. What girl wouldn’t immediately swoon? Sara wasn’t such a fool that she’d think that she’d ever get the chance to even talk to the Prince, but a girl could at least pretend. 

For a while, she stood there, watching the royalty enter, first Dorran, than Bjorn, and finally Caterina. The older Princess’ were no where to be sighted, at least by Sara’s eye, and so slowly, the girl drifted off to one of the many tables, taking a seat, but with no appetite in her belly. Eventually, she assured herself, she was bound to see someone she recognized. Until then, the girl sat off alone, peering around with wide-eyed enthusiasm, not yet concerned with her lonesome, plenty of people were sitting alone, and looking quite fashionable while doing so.
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